


History

by laireshi



Category: Infamous Iron Man - Fandom, Iron Man (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Family Feels, Fluff, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-13 13:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12985338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: Tony watches Victor pick Vidula up with an ease born out of a long familiarity and feels himself smile. She wraps her arms around his neck instinctively. She’s three and she doesn’t remember evernottrusting Victor von Doom.





	History

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nomad (nomadicwriter)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomadicwriter/gifts).



> Happy holidays! I hope you like it. I tried to combine some elements from your prompts here.
> 
> Canon note: Sorc Supreme Tony who appeared in Infamous Iron Man is just future!616!Tony; the Tony in this fic isn't yet Sorcerer Supreme as I set it only three years in the future, but is studying magic. As of writing/posting, it's not yet known who is the father of Amara's kid. I went with Tony being the biological one, to better fit the canon, but basically all of them bring her up.
> 
> Lots of thanks to runningondreams for all the "how do kids work" help!

Tony walks into the workshop to find Vidula and Victor kneeling on a soft green blanket facing each other, both focused. 

Vidula makes a delighted sound as little balls of light suddenly come to existence around her. They only last a second, but she clasps her hands excitedly. 

“Again?” she asks.

Victor nods. He holds her hands, incredibly gently, and guides them through the spell movements.

“Stop teaching her magic,” Tony says.

Victor raises an eyebrow. “Why? It’s not like she doesn’t have genetic predispositions.” He gives Tony a pointed look.

It’s there, at the tip of Tony’s tongue, _I hate magic_ , a familiar response; one he hasn’t been able to use for almost three years now. But magic is dangerous and has a price and Victor more than anyone should know it.

Hell, he _does_ know it; when Tony showed up on his doorstep with a simple enough request, _Teach me_ , Victor sent him to Strange instead.

“We’ll practice more tomorrow,” Victor says to Vidula. Tony sighs inwardly, but he knows there’s no stopping them, if Vidula likes it—and Victor would never hurt her.

Tony watches him pick her up with an ease born out of a long familiarity and feels himself smile. She wraps her arms around his neck instinctively. She’s three and she doesn’t remember ever _not_ trusting Victor von Doom.

To be fair, Tony himself finds these memories growing ever more distant.

Doctor Doom might’ve tried— _succeeded_ , even—to conquer the world countless times. It can’t be erased. But Doom had been there for Amara when Tony hadn’t, Doom had taken care of Vidula for two months before Tony finally woke up from his coma, and he was forced to accept that Doom _honestly_ wanted to change. Tony was the last person in the world who could begrudge him that. 

And now, well, now Tony sees this change every day.

Tony walks to them and leans in to kiss his daughter on the cheek. She reaches for him, and Victor very carefully hands her over. 

“Val will visit tomorrow,” Victor says. 

“I like Val.” Vidula wraps her dark hair around her fingers. “She’s giving me a jet pack.”

Tony gives Victor a look. It’s _his_ god-daughter endangering their kid.

Then again, anything designed by Valeria Richards is bound to be safe. She’s a bit better at emergency measures than Reed.

“I could teach you to fly,” Victor offers, because apparently that’s the appropriate reaction to your kid wanting a jet pack.

Tony doesn’t completely disagree.

“I could make you an armour,” he says.

Amara will stop them both, he’s pretty sure. 

“No,” Vidula says with as much authority as she can muster, being three and in Tony’s arms. “I want Val.”

Well. Turns out Amara won’t need to stop them.

Tony’s glad Vidula gets along with Reed’s kids so well, even as she is a few years younger. It’s obviously especially important to Victor. He has basically helped bring Valeria up, after all (and Tony remembered that little fact every time when hefelt lost, parenting Vidula, and Victor knew exactly what to do), and Reed is his oldest friend. Sure, in that way where they’d spent years fighting each other and then, from Tony’s perspective, pretending-to-fight-yet-working-together, but still. _Friend_.

Tony never was quite sure what exactly their relationship looked like (he still isn’t), but Reed accepted that Victor von Doom is a hero these days without a blink, when he finally came back with his family from wherever it was they’d disappeared to for years.

And Victor . . . Victor looked relieved. It only lasted a split second, because the next moment, Valeria ran out of the spaceship and straight into Victor’s arms, and he smiled and held her close.

Tony hugged both Sue and Reed welcome, and it seemed like various missing parts were just coming back together. 

“I’ve always been hoping he’d arrive at that point,” Reed told Tony at some point later on, when he played chess with Tony in Tony and Victor’s apartment when Victor was out, visiting Amara and Vidula. “I’m glad it’s now.”

“Okay,” Victor says now, bringing Tony back to the present time. “But an adult will watch.”

She nods, which can mean anything really, and then she turns in Tony’s arms, pushing at his shoulders.

“She wants down,” Victor says patiently, as if Tony needs the translation. (But he had needed it, in the past, when he’d just come back, so he doesn’t say anything.)

“Down,” she repeats enthusiastically. 

Tony sets her on the ground and keeps an eye on her as she runs around Victor’s workshop. It’s baby-proofed, which means it’s not really a workshop anymore but her playground. His true workshop and lab had to be moved behind a secure door with a very complicated lock combining the mystical and the technical. Tony tried to apologise for that, but Victor silently stared at him until Tony stopped.

They both love Vidula the most in the world.

Even now, Victor’s obviously delighted watching Vidula go around his ex-lab, discover new things every time: sometimes flashy lights that she now ignores because she can make her own, probably, sometimes some artefact that makes interesting sounds or tickles or materialises ribbons next to her. The spells on the room make sure she won’t hurt herself. 

Victor’s smiling, again, and he seems just happy. It’s still a rare thing. Most villains hate him and most heroes avoid him, but Tony knows that Victor never blames anyone but himself for it. It’s a constant struggle to prove himself.

But he doesn’t need to do that with Tony or with Amara, not with Reed and not even Strange; never with Val and now Vidula. 

Tony hopes that counts for something.

Then Victor frowns, suddenly, and Tony turns around to see Vidula pull a silver, round object from one of the drawers. 

“What—” Tony starts asking, but the reply is there in how pale Victor goes, how fast he crosses the room to take it out of her hands.

Victor’s old faceplate. _Doctor Doom’s_ faceplate.

How the hell did _that_ find way to what should be a collection of—highly powerful, anywhere but within these walls—magical toys? _Safe_ things?

But the answer is simple, even if Victor clearly can’t see it. 

He’s obviously scared, holding the plate in two fingers as if it could burn him, and looking at Vidula like he’s expecting her to hurt him. 

“Hey,” Tony says quietly. 

Vidula’s lower lip is trembling. “I want to see,” she says.

“It’s not that interesting,” Tony says, calmingly. 

“I want it,” she says, and _oh no_ her eyes are tearing up and Tony _can’t_ do that.

Apparently, neither can Victor, because he drops it—carefully, with magic—at her feet. He’s utterly still, though, and frankly, he looks like he’s about to cry. He never got a hang of masking his emotions outside of full armour, but Tony’s glad of that. He stands close to Victor.

Vidula looks at the mask. She moves it around in her hands, sticks her fingers through the eye slits. She looks at the screws with obvious focus. Tony’s glad that she likes traditional engineering too. 

She looks at them both, her finger in her mouth. “Whose is it?” she asks. 

Victor swallows audibly. “It’s mine.” Tony’s sure he knows what Victor’s thinking right now: that there are million of people who would cower in fear at the sight of it.

She nods, as if it makes perfect sense, and looks at it again. “Pretty,” she declares.

Victor makes a soft noise. Tony doesn’t look, he lets him have this moment, but he puts his hand on Victor’s arm.

The spells on the room let the mask be found here, because it’s _safe_. It won’t harm anyone.

Vidula puts it to her face and takes a few steps to them both. “I’m Iron Man!” she declares, proud and completely certain, and Victor drops to his knees and hugs her tight.

“Yes you are,” Tony tells her over Victor’s shoulder, tousling her hair.

The mask lays forgotten at their feet; history and not a threat.


End file.
